Sunday, June 16, 2013

Sunday snippets

A long road home it is indeed, from the land of illness. Still walking that path, trusting that there will be places to rest along the way, that there will be good folks to pass the time with... There is home and there is Home, and may fortune allow a long long trail yet ahead, with some shiney-brighnessess to sparkle. A year ago I'd just walked through fire, and the one I loved was still by my side, not yet gone to another... Now I walk alone as Kipling's cat, though not all places are alike to me.

If you fall asleep reading Neil Gaiman's Anasasi Boys, your dreams will be full strange, though like the cottonwood fluff in the air this season, those dreams will fragment and blow away on waking...

This morning girl went back to the King Farmers Market. There were more of the sweet Diva cucumbers, and tiny dark purple new potatoes. There was kale to make into kale-bulgar-feta salad. There was lamb bacon still too spendy to bring home. And there was a marimba band...

That particular sound, reaching out across the park to where I was walking, sends waves resonating back in memory. I remember the first time I ever saw a marimba, it was a table in the front hallway of my highschool pal Zen, an elaborate artifact of rosewood and metal, covered in stacks of mail, and books, and things...

It was years later that I ever found out the way that wood can sound like a bell, and that particular flavor of sound always feels like a festival to my ears. (well other than when it is part of gamelan, which is a whole 'nother kind of thing indeed, being more like the song that the universe is always singing) Mostly today, it was antinomical, made me think of Oregon Country Fair, and the drumming that is the heartbeat of the Fair, and how much I miss being there, particularly this year. I had to hold hard to remembering that right here right now, everything was okay, that just because I don't get what I want, that what I do get is still abundance, food to take home and eat, a roof to live under, a body that still walks around in the bright world.